Banany's fic journal

Title: Memories
Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Prompt: #045 - Old
Words: 1,032
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for je_prompts.
Summary: Koyama remembers the good times.



The day of Shige's funeral was overcast. They'd prepared for the eventuality of rain when the splodges of dark clouds had appeared on the horizon, but in the end it didn't, and the day proceeded as planned.

Yamapi, Tegoshi, Kusano and Uchi all came with their families. Massu had retired to Sweden with his wife earlier in the year and hadn't been able to make it, though they both sent their regards and sympathies.
Ryo had died in hospital a few years prior, but his daughter and her husband came with their son.
Shige had never married, nor had children, but he'd loved Ryo's daughter, probably the most out of all the children of all his friends. He'd never said this to anyone, but it was plain to see, which offended Kusano a bit. He thought that, as Shige's best friend, it should be his two sons that Shige liked the best.

Koyama just thought that Shige liked the way Ryo's daughter had begun to insult him as soon as she was old enough to speak. There was probably something, he told Kusano one day, that Shige found nostalgic about how the apple hadn't fallen far from the Nishikido tree. What Koyama didn't tell him was that he had this theory because he secretly liked Tegoshi's spoilt little spitting-image-of-daddy princess the most for much the same reason. The only reason no one knew was just because he was better at hiding his favouritism. After all, Kusano's boys were far too much like their father, and neither Koyama nor Shige had the energy to keep up with a smaller version of him anymore, let alone two of them.

And so it was in late November, while remaining relatives and close friends stood in the chilly Autumn air, that Shige's body was cremated.

Throughout the entire funeral procession, Koyama didn't cry. Because they were men, all of the former NEWS members did their best to hide their tears, but it was unmistakable that most of them were crying. But Koyama actually didn't cry at all. It perplexed everyone there, but Tegoshi was the only one who asked. He hadn't changed at all, still unable to read the mood in any given situation, and so once the formal part of the funeral was over, and only those who had been closest to Shige remained to have a meal together in Koyama's apartment, he asked, "Hey, Kei? Why weren't you crying today? You loved Shige the most of all."

All of the guests sitting around the table, and most certainly Tegoshi, knew well that the reason Shige and Koyama had never started families and had children of their own was because they had chosen to become each other's family long ago.

Some of them had accepted it straight away when they'd found out, while some of them had taken a while to come to terms. Some of them pretended they didn't know, and some of them did their best to forget. But Tegoshi had never cared. When a flustered 23-year-old Koyama had told him over six decades ago that he thought he might be falling in love with Shige, Tegoshi had just laughed and clapped and said, "That explains it!"
Koyama didn't know exactly what 'it' was, but he was glad for the way that Tegoshi reacted, and that now he had someone to talk to.

When the question was asked, the rest of the funeral guests quickly went silent, and Tegoshi's wife buried her face in her hands and cringed at her husband's bluntness. But Koyama only chuckled, neither offended nor embarrassed in the least.

"Shige and I always thought that our funerals should be about celebrating the lives we lived, not mourning the end of them." He explained, and Tegoshi nodded and went back to eating, content now that he had no more nagging questions to ask.

When the meal was over, they put on some of NEWS' old songs and danced to them - Yamapi had developed a bad back over the years, but even he did his best to join in for a bit - while the almost-teenaged children stood around, making scathing remarks about how they don't want to dance to music that was produced "way back in the stone age".

As the evening wore on, the number of guests gradually thinned out, until only Tegoshi and his family remained. And then before too long, it was time for them to leave as well. Tegoshi gave Koyama's shoulder a squeeze before he left, and Tegoshi's daughter gave him a hug. They all promised to visit again soon, and it was with a grin and a wave that he saw them out the door.

Finally alone in his apartment, Koyama settled himself in front of the altar where Shige's urn now rested. He sat in silence with a contemplative expression on his face, that wasn't a frown, but wasn't quite a smile either. After staring into space for some time, his eyes welled up a little, and a stray tear slipped down his wrinkled cheek. He laughed softly, shaking his head and wiping the tear trail from his face.

"I can't help it." He said to the urn filled with the ashes of his beloved, as though he were arguing with it, "I've always been sentimental. You know that."
A sentimental idiot, he could imagine Shige saying in his scornful but secretly amused voice, and Koyama's heart felt both warm and a little sore at the thought.
He knew they'd promised each other that this day would be one for celebration and not for tears, but it was impossible for Koyama not to shed a few.

Still, like he and Shige had promised one another they would, Koyama would think of only the good memories. There had been plenty over the decades, plenty to help him endure the lonely nights ahead.

As he sat cross legged in front of the altar, Koyama thought back to that day so many years ago when he had first admitted to a blushing Shige, "I love you", and found himself glad that, of all the ways they could have lived their lives, they'd chosen to live them together.